


in the heat of the summer

by bittys



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, First Kiss, Fluff, Go Easy On Me, How Do I Tag, M/M, My First AO3 Post, No Plot/Plotless, i wrote this to cheer myself up, moomin and snufkin build a fort, thats mostly it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 03:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittys/pseuds/bittys
Summary: When an unexpected cold-front comes through Moominvalley, Snufkin gets invited to spend the night with the Moomin's.





	in the heat of the summer

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic i've ever posted on ao3 woop woop. i wrote this to cheer myself up mostly, so it's pretty much plotless, but i quite like the way it turned out so why not! remember to leave kudos or a comment to help support an author! <3 
> 
> title is from brockhampton 'summer'

Snufkin wakes up that morning rather early, tangled beneath the chill material of the sleeping bag blanket and a spare frizzy blanket curled around his arms. His teeth are chattering, and his legs have a mind of their own as they shuffle around to warm up his body. He rolls onto his back, pulling the spare blanket up to his chin. The walls of the tent are waving gently, letting in whistling sounds of the wind through the tiny holes in the fabric. 

It was supposed to be summer; a few months of sweaty foreheads and threats of burned skin if he was not careful, so why has winter seemed to of come so early? He was sure he’d just gotten here three days ago. He fears for if he pulls the tent zipper, snowflakes would fly in and land in his hair. 

Surely it was not cold enough for that… 

He carefully sat up, the covers falling into a bundle on his lap. He was hesitant to move, a chill having already fallen over him. And he was scared for if he got up and learned that the Moomin’s had gone back into hibernation. It was cold enough for that. He lifts the covers anyway and scoots out from the warmth to crawl towards his rucksack. Even through the scratchy tent flooring, the ground felt cold. He grabs the rucksack and finds his usual clothing to dress himself; a lengthy green shirt, baggy trousers, and his boots that were beginning to grow quite dirty. He tops it off with his hat and throws the rucksack over his shoulders. As he exits the tent, he fears his hat might fly away as he walks. He has to keep hold of it with both hands. 

He crosses the bridge in the yard of the Moomin’s house. The river is frenzied underneath, its murky waters splashing against the rocks and throwing around the fish that made home underneath. Perhaps a storm was approaching, that would explain this unusual summer weather and the lack of the rivers color. Moominpapa would know, Snufkin thinks, he always did. 

The porch of the Moomin’s house is unoccupied. Usually, the family would be out enjoying breakfast and laughing amongst each other. It was always such a pure sight, and though Snufkin enjoyed his isolation, being apart of it was nice too. He didn’t talk much with the rest of the family when he was around, only enjoyed their company as family while spending his time talking with Moomin instead. 

He walks up the steps to the front entrance and twists the knob. As always, it swings open with welcome. The scent of pancakes and lingering firewood twists around the air, welcoming his nose with open arms. And the firewood, oh how good it was to feel the heat of the flames reach his skin. The orange and yellow flickered this way and that, producing burning pops of ash into the air. The living room is empty as he walks farther in to accompany himself with the fireplace, the kitchen is where the family is at this cold morning. Little My’s voice is floating into the lounge as she explains something to somebody. He can’t exactly pick up on what her conversation is about, she is far too into it now. He rests his hands back to his side and follows the scent of the pancakes into the kitchen. 

Each of the Moomin’s, including Little My, are all sat around the table. Moomintroll of course, is the first to immediately take notice of Snufkin’s newfound presence. He’s staring down at his empty plate one minute, and popping out of his chair the next. 

“Snufkin! Snufkin!” He exclaims as he runs towards Snufkin. His arms are outreached, possibly for a hug. Snufkin dives to lean against the wall instead. 

He tips his hat. “Moomin,” 

Moomin comes to a stop in front of Snufkin. He scratches at the back of his neck. “R-Right. Snufkin.” 

A smile finds its way onto Snufkin’s lips. He doesn’t feel the need to hide it, not really. Moomin’s excitement was more than welcomed, as was the embarrassment he showed so clearly upon Snufkin’s own nonchalance. It was cute. 

Moominmama turns in her chair. There’s a soft smile on her face. “Oh, my, Snufkin. We weren’t expecting you so early. Would you like a pancake?” She isn’t mad at his suddenness in their house, she looks rather pleased in fact. Her voice is gentle as she speaks, and Snufkin had always compared it to something like a hug, even if it was not physical. It would fall so naturally and calm the atmosphere in a second. 

“If it is not a problem, Moominmama.” Snufkin pushes himself from the wall and walks around Moomin to claim the empty chair for himself. It’s across from Moomin and in-between Moominpapa and Moominmama, which he didn’t mind at all. He wouldn’t have to sit near Little My, she often found a way to kick him underneath the table. And he had a clear view of Moomin, which he found was the prettiest view, even after visiting the most extravagant places. 

He watches as Moominmama gets out of her seat to pour more batter into the frying pan.  
“It is quite cold out today, I couldn’t bare to sit in my tent.” 

Moomin makes his way back to his own seat and scoots himself in with his paws gripped to the edges of the seat. “Moominpapa says that it’s a cold-front,” He looks to his father. 

“Indeed. After all, we are only a few days into summer.” Moominpapa says. Moomin nods, like he had already known that. Snufkin supposes that sounded about correct, but it was unusual anyway. He couldn’t remember a time this had happened, not this cold at the very least. It must have been good for Moomins to have fur, they were probably snug as a bear even amongst the chill air. How it must’ve felt to have fur like that, or be snuggled underneath that softness— 

“You’re interrupting my story!” Little My screeched. Snufkin startled. He grabbed the cusp of his plate, ready to launch if necessary. “Don’t throw that plate at me, Snufkin!” And then she continued on with her story; something about a very large tortoise taking her family to sea, and a letter for said family. He isn’t sure what that means, exactly. His stomach grumbles as he releases his grasp from around the plate and opts to tapping his fingernail against it instead. His eyes travel around the room as he waits for his pancakes, from the shelf of books, to Moominpapa’s top-hat glued together with honey — still — and then his traveling eyes land on Moomin. He looks just as bored staring down into his own plate. 

If only it wasn’t so cold. They could have gone on an adventure today, together, just the two of them. They were supposed to go to the beach again, perhaps explore that cave further. 

Stray white fur snuck around Moomin’s eyes and fluffed around his snout with each breath he took. When his eyelashes flutter as he looks towards Snufkin, Snufkin quickly looks back to Moominpapa’s honey glued hat. 

Snufkin considered it as it sat atop his head. He should really take that to Snork. 

Moominmama brings a plate of stacked pancakes back to the table and sets it down in the middle. She then retreats back, only to return with a container of butter and another of syrup. The pancakes are made up in perfect, steaming golden brown circles. As everyone reaches their bare paws — or hands — in to grab one, Snufkin and Moominpapa discard their hats to the side and then take their own serving. 

Chatter fills the room here and there as they eat. Little My complains about being interrupted again. From across the room, Moomin sighs. “Sucks that we can’t do lots of adventuring today, huh Snufkin?” He looks disappointed as he stares into his pancakes like they held the future inside of the syrup. Maybe a future about Moominmama winning an award for best chef ever, but no plans for their adventures today, or as long as Moominvalleys ‘cold-front’ lasts. That didn’t mean the end of the world though, not really. 

“No worries, Moomin. It will be much colder on the beach than over here today. We can find something to do inside, or near the house.” Snufkin thinks about teaching Moomin to play his harmonica, but then realizes he doesn’t want Moomin saliva on the insides of it for the rest of its lifespan. If anything, he will play it for him. 

Moominmama places her fork down on to her plate. “You two can help me tidy up the house. That is well needed, I think,” Snufkin shovels a fork of pancake into his mouth to stifle the clear no forming on his tongue. “Snufkin, since it may be cold tonight, would you fancy staying here? We don’t want you to freeze, or course.” 

Snufkin looks up at her. He had only stayed the night once before, in Moomin’s bed, and it wasn’t terrible because he didn’t feel anything more than platonic towards him. Now, he could feel heat rising from the tips of his ears and to his cheeks. “Well…” But it was much better than sleeping in the cold. That shabby blanket and the sleeping bag blanket didn’t do much to protect him from the chill breeze. 

“That’s a good idea!” Moomin butts in with excitement. 

Looking up at Moomin, Snufkin took another bite of pancake. His eyebrows are risen and his smile is all too hopeful for him to say no. “I suppose that would be a good idea.” 

 

After they had finished breakfast, Snufkin helps Moominmama rinse the dishes while Little My disturbs Moomin, and Moominpapa makes a run for the study to avoid cleaning with the two of them. Besides Little My’s tiny feet pounding against the upstairs flooring as she torments poor Moomin, the house falls peaceful. Snufkin drags a rag across the wet dishes as Moominmama hands them to him, and soon enough they were each placed in individual spots on the drying rack. 

“Thank you for helping me, Snufkin. You have always been so polite.” She smiles down at him again. “I’m afraid you must go back to Little My and Moomin now,” She chuckles and nods to a proper excuse and they both leave the kitchen; Moominmama sitting on the couch, Snufkin turning with his hands grasping the banister to go upstairs and join the commotion. 

Little My and Moomin are running around in the hallway, diving from one room and to the next as they chase each other in a game of tag. Moomin is running straight down the hall, towards Snufkin, as the gremlin behind him makes a run for him. His tail is swishing around frantically, and Snufkin cannot decide if it is of excitement or sheer terror. He wants to say both. 

“Get her away!” Moomin cries. He’s about to collide with Snufkin, but Snufkin makes a swift movement around the banister to avoid collision with the fluffy body. He smirks. Moomin turns to his bedroom, motions for Snufkin to follow, and slams the door as soon as Snufkin runs into the room with his heart pounding. 

Out of breath from the chase, Moomin shoves the pin through the lock. 

“She is evil,” He sighs as soon as the lock is in place. Little My is standing at the door now, slamming her tiny fists against the wood. “Go away! I want to hang out with my friend!” He calls. The pounding of the door slows until it comes to a hesitant stop, Moominmama is calling her name from downstairs.

“You escaped her,” Snufkin held his hands around his back as he looked around the bedroom. It was quaint, yet enough for Moomin and his miscellaneous objects and dragons. The sun filtered through the window, casting upon the carpet next to the bed neatly made yet still sprinkled with shedded white furs. On the desk to the side, unread books and half read books were scattered atop it, along with stray papers, some inventions from Snork, and some flowers possibly from Snorkmaiden. Every inch of the room felt like him, was him in every sense, it felt like he was invading Moomin’s space. “No dragons this time?” Snufkin teases. 

Moomin sinks down into the mattress of his bed as he sits on the side. “I’ve learned my lesson, they do not like me much.” 

Snufkin chuckles. “Not a valid assumption until you find another one, I suppose.” 

“Perhaps. Now, any ideas for an adventure today, Snufkin?” 

Looking around the room, Snufkin’s gaze lands on the pile of pillows and sheets and plush animals stuffed in the corner of the room. If he couldn’t be in his own home — or tent — tonight, then why not bring it to the Moomin’s? He walks over to the pile and bends down to pick up a pillow, clearly old with its astray strings and poking feathers.  
“How about we make a fort? Fight off evil Little My’s!” 

Moomin shifts on his bed curiously. “I’ve never made a fort before…” 

“All the more reason! Come on!” 

And so they do. Snufkin gathers the sheets up while Moomin provides him with two chairs and a broom to shove in the middle. They pull the sheets and blankets across half of the room, together working to keep them snug on the chairs and the head and footboard of the bed. Snufkin throws Moomin’s thick feathered blanket on the floor underneath the tent of blankets. Once they get back from lunch, they finish up the rest by hanging a lantern from the carefully steadied broom, throwing in pillows and extra blankets and bringing in a bit of company— two teddy bears and a stuffed unicorn. It was far more comfortable than Snufkin’s tent could ever achieve, but that was Snufkin’s and Snufkin’s only. This was theirs to call their own, even if it was only for the night. 

Snufkin sat underneath the lantern, and Moomin snuggles into the propped up pillows. “Now what do we do?” Moomin asks, picking at one of the loose strings on the pillow. 

He looks towards the lantern in thought before crawling out of their fort and dragging his rucksack right back in. He leans it on the floor and carefully rummages through it before he finally locates a deck of cards given to him by some drunken man in front of a tavern. He settles himself back cross-legged in front of Moomin and releases the band from the cards. “We’ll play a game,” He says, spreading them out across the blanket. Some overlap each other from the uneven surface — “Pick one,” — but Moomin gets the point. 

 

Their game lasts until dinner, and they play another round of tag with Little My outside before the sun goes down and Moominmama shoos them to their rooms. Well, Moomin’s room, in Snufkin’s case. The house finally falls completely silent when the last bedroom door shuts and Snufkin and Moomin settle into the fort. 

“Do you want me to sleep under here with you?” Moomin questions. 

He looks over the multitude of blankets on the floor. Snufkin responds. “I sort of stole your blankets, so...” He cleans up the deck of cards and shoves them back into his rucksack. “Yes?” He pulls out his pajamas for the night and makes a motion for Moomin to turn around. Moomin complies as he dresses. “Okay, you can turn back around.” 

“Okay.”

Moomin turns back around with a smile. He pulls the pillows down so that they are comfortable enough for them to sleep, and fluffs his own up. “You know, I actually had fun today I—“ He takes notice of Snufkin, “Is that my sweater?” 

Startled, Snufkin looks down. “No.” 

It was definitely his sweater. 

“It’s way too big for you.” Moomin points out. 

“I bought it this way.” 

Moomin squints. “I’m pretty sure it’s mine.” 

Snufkin shrugs and crawls to his side of the fort. He lifts the covers and sneaks his way in before Moomin has the chance to take notice of anything else. “You don’t even wear clothes,” He says. 

“You don’t even live with me! How did you get it?” 

Cuddling into his pillow, Snufkin says, “I didn’t, because it’s mine, not yours.” 

The blanket is pulled from Snufkin’s body just slightly as Moomin huffs and crawls underneath too. Above, the lantern is turned low, but still flickering enough to provide a soft yellow glimmer across the fort. It’s shaking their shadows around, casting Moomin’s over the side of the fort in an intimidating manner, but Snufkin realizes that his features are anything but intimidating as he watches him shimmy around to get comfortable. There was a chance he wasn’t used to sleeping on a mildly hard surface. Snufkin wants to say, prepare for back pains tomorrow, but he holds his tongue. 

“Sweater thief.” 

Snufkin holds back a smile too. He closes his eyes, and pulls the sleeves around the palms of his hands. It was Moomin’s sweater, but no matter how hard he tried to pry the answer from Snufkin, he would never come to admit it. And if he did, it was because it was a nice sweater; not because it smelled like Moomin no matter how many times he wore it. 

They lay in silence underneath the grim lighting. It’s warm, the lantern casted just enough heat for comfort. And the fort is comfortable even without the lantern. There’s enough blankets for Snufkin to feel as if he was drowning beneath them. He can hear the soft breathing coming from Moomin, and can only imagine the little tufts of fur blowing with his breaths. He is turned away from Snufkin, unaware of how aware Snufkin was. 

Until he turned to face Snufkin that is. His snout was awfully close to Snufkin’s own mouth. It was a little awkward, but Snufkin couldn’t quite find it in himself to move away, not at all. He squeezes his eyes tighter and flinches when Moomin breaks the silence. “I can’t fall asleep either.” 

Snufkin opens his eyes. He’s staring right into the oceanic blue of Moomin’s. The side of his face was no longer white, but orange with the flame. It flickered around his face, shadowing some parts of it and then switching to another. But no matter where the shadow landed, each part of Moomin was beautiful. That’s what Snufkin decides. 

He digs his nails into the covered palms of his hands. “Are you uncomfortable?” Snufkin asks. 

Moomin nods. The fur of his snout brushes against Snufkin’s again as he does so, and he jolts his head away. “Sorry. Are you?” 

Snufkin isn’t sure what he’s sorry for. “No. I’m never uncomfortable when I’m with you.” And then he isn’t exactly sure why he said that. Pink dusts his cheeks mercilessly. 

Even shadowed beneath the darkness, the way Moomin’s eyes widen is unmissable.  
“O-oh,” is all Moomin seems he can muster, and even that it isn’t much. “Me too.” He glances away to the corner of the fort. Snufkin’s eyes do not move from Moomin’s face, only fall to his snout which is still unintentionally close to his mouth. 

Snufkin swallows hard. He’s going cross eyed from looking so intently, and he’s beginning to feel lost under the thickness of the silence and blankets. He wants to say something— anything, but just like Moomin, he can’t say anything else. 

Moomin looks back at him. He takes a noticeable shaky breath and slowly moves his head the rest of the inch closer, leaving no more space between them. He nuzzles himself into Snufkin’s mouth, his fur tickles his cheek. Snufkin’s eyes widen in surprise, but he pushes closer in when he realizes that Moomin was more relaxed than he was. Ironically.

Pulling his hands out from underneath the blanket, he gently places them over Moomin’s face. His slender fingers sink into his silken fur, and his nails dig in just a little. Not to hurt him, of course not, only to ask him for a little bit more. To press the rough surface of his lips harder against Moomin’s fur, to keep him closer than he’s ever had him before. 

Moomin backs away all too soon. “Y-You know what?” Moomin starts, “I hope it’s cold tomorrow too.” 

Snufkin smiles, his heart skips a beat. He lifts his head up to plant a gentle kiss to Moomin’s forehead, and then they both burst out into a fit of laughter. They’re both shaking nervously underneath the sheets, but it’s overtaken by their joy. Snufkin’s heart feels as if it’s about to burst. He keeps his arms around Moomin as they calm down, his fingers dug into the soft of his fur with no intentions of letting go, and they eventually both fall asleep intertwined, Snufkin’s head underneath Moomin’s snout and his arms wrapped lazily around his side. Moomin keeps his chin rested comfortably atop the rarity of Snufkin’s hair. 

He sort of hopes it stays cold tomorrow too…just for another night.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr if you’re interested! i go on moomin sprees and mass reblog it sometimes. @bittys


End file.
